Pixie entered the flat feeling thoroughly wretched. It was twelve months to the day since she had walked out on her marriage to Darryl, and although she told herself it was ridiculous to let a particular day make her depressed, she nevertheless was depressed.
Not even Alex was there to cheer her up, but of course if was Friday and he always went to the university swimming pool to swim a few lengths and then socialize with some of the other students. Afterwards he would go on to eat at Rosa's Café where the students tended to gather. He probably would get home about eleven o'clock.
Pixie made her way to her bedroom and took off her working clothes and made her way to the shower. She thought it would relax her, but all it did was to stir up old memories of the earlier times she and Darryl had shared a shower and had laughed and made love.
The memories went on as they had for most of the day like a film loop playing over and over. The scene that was most vivid and painful was that last night when she had told Darryl she was leaving him. He had pleaded with her not to leave him, telling her that she was the only one he loved and it had only been a passing thing. But there had been three passing things before, and this time he had taken a step too far.
Despite his philandering she had still loved Darryl and she almost forgave him this time, but in the end the knowledge that he would forever philander and her self respect had got the better of her.
Those who knew Pixie and Darryl had wondered that he needed to seek other women, for although Pixie might not be the most obviously seductive of women, nevertheless people said of her, "She has something."
Her parents had been prophetic when they named her Pixie. There was character and charm in the pixyish lines of her heart shaped face, with its determined chin and large, wide-apart grey eyes. She had a rather humorous snub nose and a wide mouth with full lips that normally seemed always ready to smile and her dark hair seemed to fit her like a cap.
Five feet four tall she had a slender figure, and when she wore a T-shirt high upturned breasts with pointed nipples were outlined. At such times as she wore a short skirt or shorts, shapely legs with dainty ankles were revealed.
Pixie was approaching the dreaded forties but her delicate features and build made her look ten years younger. There had been a few embarrassing situations when her son Alex had been mistaken for her husband or boy friend, and that was an ego boost for Pixie.
* * * * * * * *
It was fortunate for Pixie that she had her profession as an optician, and working for a large company she was paid a good salary.
Alex had been given the choice of living with his father or her, and neither Pixie nor Darryl was surprised when he chose to live with Pixie. Certainly he had always been closer to Pixie than to Darryl, and as he confided in Pixie, "I don't want to be around if he brings that blonde tart here to live with him."
Alex was studying architecture and Darryl agreed that he would pay his share of the costs, although legally he had no need to do so since Alex was over eighteen.
Once Darryl realised that his marriage was really at an end an agreement was reached about the division of the assets and that seemed to finalise things, or almost. For Pixie the emotions that go with the break-up of marriage still lingered, and had become even more poignant on this Friday anniversary day.
Pixie might have got herself another man very quickly since there were plenty of offers, subtle or otherwise. These ranged from a "meaningful relationship" to possible marriage, but Pixie couldn't trust herself to another relationship, the hurt had been too great.
The only male she could trust was her son Alex, who had been loving and supportive throughout the worst of Pixie's distress. She wanted him there with her this evening, but she knew she was being selfish because normally Friday evenings were the only times Alex was not at home for the evening. Other evenings he was often working in his room, but at least Pixie knew he was there and this eased the loneliness.
This gave her another anxiety, because Alex was not mingling with his peers as much as she thought he should, especially those of the female gender. It was as if she was sufficient for him but, as she asked herself, "Why does he want to stay home with mother?" but that was always followed by the thought that she was glad he did.
She had gone round that circle many times and she knew she had become emotionally dependent on Alex -- too dependent she often thought - but she knew he loved her as much as she loved him, and wasn't that the way it was supposed to be with mother and son?
* * * * * * * *
Back in her bedroom Pixie opened the wardrobe door and stood surveying its contents and finally chose the red housecoat. Alex always said she looked lovely in it and so she would greet him wearing it tonight because she needed someone to say she was lovely.
She looked at the big double bed. This was one of the few items of furniture she had taken with her when she left. She couldn't bear the thought of another woman sharing it with Darryl.
He hadn't taken in the "blonde slut," instead he had ended up with a rather scrawny red head; three times divorced with four children aged four, seven, eleven and fifteen. She had the advantage of three property settlements. Since the woman seemed to make a profession of marriage and divorce, Pixie wondered if Darryl would be the fourth property settlement.
Pixie thought bitterly of how Darryl had responded negatively when she had talked about them having a second child, and now he had four children, albeit not fathered by him.
She sighed and left the room. She wasn't really hungry even though she had eaten nothing during the day but she felt that she must eat something, and so made herself poached egg on toast. Afterwards she took a bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass and then wandered into the living room taking the bottle with her.
She sat on the divan and the Darryl film loop continued to play on despite her attempt to stop it. She usually only had one glass of wine in the evenings but this time she poured a second glass and this emptied the bottle because it had been broached a couple of evenings before. She had no great head for alcohol and she began to feel drowsy, so she lay back on the divan with a cushion under head.
In her line of sight was a rather nice escritoire she had bought, and on it was a framed photograph of Alex. She lay gazing at it.
It had been taken that last summer when the three of them had still been together and had gone to the beach for the day. She remembered Darryl taking the picture of Alex coming out of the water after a swim. Pixie had bought herself new swim wear which was little more than a thong. At the same time she had bought new swimming shorts for Alex, and they were extremely short.
As he came up the beach towards them the wet shorts moulded to Alex's penis which was obviously erect. Pixie thought that this display of manhood must have been inspired by some girl on the beach, but then she noticed he was gazing at her. She felt herself responding to his arousal, and so while Darryl made his habitual survey of what he called "The Talent," Pixie and Alex had only eyes for each other.
Alex had been seventeen at the time; Pixie had been impressed not only by Alex's erection, but by his good looks as well. With a mother's pride she'd had the photograph enlarged and framed, and it had been placed alongside her wedding photograph and some pictures of Alex at various stages of his life. Now it stood alone on the escritoire, a mute symbol of a mother's delight in her son.
It was surprising she kept that photo because Pixie was so alarmed by what had passed between her and Alex she never wore that negligible garment again. That moment of mutual arousal changed something in their relationship. It was like the awakening of something that had lain dormant, and once awakened could not be put back to sleep.
* * * * * * * *
Pixie drifted off into that state when we hang between sleep and wakefulness and otherwise repressed thoughts and memories come uninhibited bubbling to the surface and take on a dream like quality.
The photographic image of Alex she had been looking at lingered on in her mind and gradually appeared to come to life. Alex seemed to step out of the picture and approach her. He sat beside her on the divan and they spoke together, but what words they had spoken she could never afterwards remember.
As they spoke Alex's hand began to caress her thigh and under its caress she laid back. His hand gradually moved to the top of her thigh and as it reached her genitals she pushed him away crying out, "No...no..."
She woke suddenly, whether because of the incestuous content of her fantasy or the arrival home of Alex she couldn't be sure.
He had called out as he passed the living room, "Hi mum, going to have a shower and I'll be right with you."
Pixie sat up and glancing at the clock saw that it was twenty one minutes past eleven. She lay back again waiting for Alex to come in to say goodnight.
He entered smiling and wearing his bath robe. He had been aware of what day it was and what it had probably meant to his mother. As he approached her she sat up and Alex sat beside her.
"How's it been mother?" he asked.
"Pretty terrible darling she said, I couldn't stop...stop...remembering." At last the tears she had held back all day came, and Alex put an arm round her. She leaned against him and they remained like that until her sobs started to subside. She raised her tear stained face to him in mute request, and Alex bent to kiss her.
It was nice, very nice Pixie thought; she had not been kissed like that for a long time, not even by Alex.
Reassuringly Alex said, "You know I love you mother."
Pixie felt the warmth of his love surge through her and she said, "Yes darling, I know." Then she almost spoilt the moment by adding, "It's a pity your father never loved me as much as you do."
Alex seemed unaffected by the mention of his father as he said, "If I'd been him I'd never have betrayed you mother, never."
